Tag Archives: trap

The Gift

On the redeye back to the City I wept profusely in the first class bathroom. The stewardess was knocking on the door, begging me to return to my seat. People were complaining.


When I staggered back to coach, I found something tucked into my briefcase under the seat.

It came in a brown paper bag, twisted at the top and tied with a blue ribbon, like it was meant for a special someone. A small envelope stuck out of the bag with my name written on it. I opened the envelope. The card inside read, You forgot this. I opened the bag and found a black DVD case with a blank disk inside. I looked up and down the dark aisle. Nobody was awake. Maybe the gift was meant for somebody else.

I asked the stewardess if she had seen anyone stop by my seat. She didn’t know. Nobody was supposed to be walking around while the fasten seatbelt sign was illuminated. The captain came on the PA system and said we would be going around the storm. There would be a slight delay.

I looked at the disk in my hand. I thought about making an announcement on the PA system. I could wave the disk around like a throwing star to get people’s attention. I might break it in half, wield the sharp edge as a weapon and threaten to take everyone in first class hostage.

A week ago, Laurie had rented a cabin on the lake. We spent the whole week without any trouble. It was the first time we were alone together since leaving the City. But after a week, I thought I would be better off without her, and she would be better without me. She cried for a while. When she couldn’t cry anymore, she let me go. I drove straight to the airport and got on the redeye back to the City.

Here I was with this gift. Maybe it was a trap. Maybe Laurie wanted to get back at me. Maybe it was a tape of her having revenge sex with Roy. I wouldn’t have put it past her. I would never put a mysterious blank disk into my own laptop, but I was willing to risk losing my life’s work to find out what it was. I’d insert the disk and press play. Laurie’s face would fill the screen. Laurie would explain how it was she who had planted the gift in my bag. She would explain how she had gotten on the next flight to the City without my knowing. She had put the gift in my briefcase to make sure I didn’t find it before I took off. She had followed me home to save our relationship. She understood me and wanted to be with me. She would wait at my doorstep. She would wait and wait and wait. She would talk me into falling back in love with her. She would beg for forgiveness. She would promise to never see Roy again. She would ask to move in with me. Then she would beckon to me through the screen and stretch her big lips into a smile and say, come hither. It would be so sweet. Then I would eject the disk and laugh and wipe my eyes. In the airport, I would forget about my checked bags, hail a cab and tell the driver, take me home and step on it. I would hang my head out the window like a dog, sniff at the fresh City air and think, It’s finally happening!

I pulled out my laptop. Before I could insert the disk, the stewardess told me to stow my computer. We would be landing soon. When I got off the plane, I found a seat at the arrival gate, hoping to find out what flight she would be on, to stay one step ahead of her, ready for anything. I inserted the disk into my laptop. The disk was scratched.



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Love, Cats

If you follow my blog, you might have noticed I am a cat lover. My cat sentiments are not simply an infatuation or an obsession. It is a kind of cycle. It’s a trap.

This cat-loving whirlwind began long ago, when I first examined myself in the mirror. First, I was scared. I tried to fight my image, slapping half-heartedly at the body I saw before me.

In time, I grew out of my self-loathing phase. I grew to love my self-image. I stared at myself all morning and all afternoon.

My parents took care of me and I grew old and fat. My life has been wonderful.

I have loved my self and my life ever since I realized how cute and cuddly I really was all along. How can you deny it? I sure can’t.

Now I am bound by this love, by this beautiful animal staring back at me in the mirror. He is so soft, so furry, and so sly. I love him. I love that he is a cat. I love everything about him. But I worry my love is distracting me from the world around me. If I were not so in love with this cat, I might find time to get rid of my housemate, George.

George is a problem. George hates cats. He hates me. I hate him because I love cats. George is loyal, but he is an idiot. I want George out of my house. I would knock that loyal smirk off his face if I could. That would be awesome.

I would do anything to get rid of George, but alas I am caught in this cycle of self-loving. It would be impossible to motivate myself to do anything about George.

George will have to stay. Maybe I will leave. Maybe later—tomorrow. Maybe not.

I’m in a real bind. Any suggestions?



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